This is a work of fiction. It is a sequel to the other stories, beginning with "A Letter from America" that have appeared in adult/youth, young pals, and no sex. Not one single character is , or is based on, a real person. I have borrowed the names of places, and even of some buildings and institutions in those places, but their personnel remain fictitious. They do not represent real people. Not all characters were created by me. There are some that were created by another author -- Jacob Lion. I am grateful to Jacob for permission to use his characters. I hope you enjoy this story. I'm grateful to Nifty for publishing it. Nifty makes no charge, neither for me to publish, nor for you to read these stories, but it does cost money to publish them. If you enjoy the stories, please consider making a donation to Nifty at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html so that he can continue to bring these stories to you.
Howard Chapter 2
Sunday morning and Simon appeared with a cup of tea.
"Jonah, what's Luke doing in the dog basket".
"Keeping Howard company I should think", I replied. "I suppose I'm going to have to talk to him about that. Don't forget he's slept in worse places."
"Hey! I've slept with you as well," he responded. "It's not all that bad."
"I meant on the streets you dummy," I said, trading wilful misunderstanding for wilful misunderstanding.
"I know," he replied, genuinely misunderstanding this time. I grinned.
He returned the grin, then said,
"Breakfast in fifteen minutes."
Showered and breakfasted we were soon ready for Church. By "we" I obviously meant the boys. It clearly wasn't a good idea to leave our infant hound alone in the flat.
He might be an infant, but he's already energetic enough to be able to leap onto the sofa. I discovered that as soon as I sat on it. Simon had been quick enough, when he noticed the dog squatting on the carpet, to scoop him up and relocate him on his litter tray. The dog accepted this and, interpreted it as meaning that Simon wanted him to live in the tray - where he obligingly remained, curling himself up in the litter. Only the departure of the boys, leaving he and I alone, inspired the puppy to launch itself onto the sofa and snuggle up against me - coating my best jersey in kitty-litter dust and, probably, worse.
I picked him up and hugged him, since my jersey was now a write-off, telling him,
"You might not realise this, but you are due for a bath, and I know how to do it."
It's amazing how quickly you get into the habit of holding conversations with dumb animals.
I headed upstairs carrying my little cuddly bundle with me and shut him in the bathroom. He whimpered a little as I quickly undressed. He darted out of the bathroom as soon as I opened the door, but then followed me back in. I then picked him up and, climbing into the bath, turned on the shower. We showered and I remembered afterwards that it was essential to dry Howard first.
Dressed again, I settled down to watch the morning service on the TV. Howard was playfully capering about and getting into everything but, apparently, liked to join in with the hymns. I have to say that, although he was not big enough to have a big voice yet, the whimpering that passed for howling was definitely, deliberate, structured vocalizing.
I lay on the floor and scratched behind his ears in an effort to encourage hm in this, all the time joining in with the hymns myself. It was a strange sort of duet.
As the service ended, I quickly crawled back onto the sofa. I realised that, if the boys came in and caught me lying on the floor with the dog, it would make it more difficult for me to have words with Luke about sleeping in the basket.
It transpired that the boys didn't return alone. Yes, I know there were three of them so not one of them could have been alone, but you know what I mean.
"The boys tell us you've got a new member of the family," said Joe following them in.
"Well look at you," said Miriam, immediately on the floor with the puppy. "What's your name then?"
"Yap" said Howard, suddenly protective of his floor.
"I suppose we'd better call you 'Yap' from now on then," commented Simon.
"His name's Howard," said Luke as he helped the other infant out of the pushchair.
Well that was it. In no time Jacob was on the floor with his Mother and our new pet.
Miriam encouraged Jacob to play gently so as not to frighten Howard. Howard was not so worried about frightening Jacob. There was no danger of that, however. Whatever Howard did gave rise to one of Jacob's trademark peals of laughter.
For once it didn't go quiet when Jacob and family departed. Howard saw to that. He was actually sat whining at the, now silent, television. Apparently, Howard is a music lover, and took it amiss that the TV wasn't doing its job.
Luke put a stop to it by scooping the animal up in his arms and then singing to it. Howard didn't actually know the words to "Lord Jesus Christ" (as Luke apparently did), but he knew a harmony for it. He joined in enthusiastically. So enthusiastically did Howard perform, that Luke felt moved to continue with "Thine be the glory." Well Simon and I both knew the harmony to that. We'd no alto, but we had two sopranos, a tenor, a bass and whatever Howard thought he was.
It sounded glorious and, when it had finished we all collapsed laughing. Luke rolled on the floor, convulsed with laughter, while Howard kept making little excursive runs at him yapping all the way. Whenever he got close he would yelp and leap back again, only to repeat the performance. The fact that Luke found this hilarious only encouraged the little fella.
Well dinner worked better today, though Howard still made with the big, soulful eyes. None the less we each ate our own meal and Howard ate his.
Given his love of music, it was, I suppose, inevitable that the TV should go back on in the afternoon. It was a good call. "Songs of Praise" proved to be the puppy's favourite programme, and all five of us sang along with it. If, however, you expected "Song of Praise" to be viewed with a certain amount of reverence, you'd have been disappointed. What it was viewed with a large amount of was hilarity. I somehow don't think God minded. I suspect, if we'd listened carefully enough, we'd have heard Him laughing too.
Now, after tea was when I chose to have that word with Luke. I pointed out to him that I didn't mind if the dog chose not to sleep in his basket, but I didn't want Luke sleeping rough. He'd done enough of that. Luke explained that Howard had been lonely.
"Luke," I told him, "you know I've always been proud of you, and the fact that you have a big, kind heart that worries about small, frightened animals is just one more reason for me to be proud. There are better ways to deal with his loneliness than climbing into his basket though. Next time, listen to your heart, but use your brain as well."
That Sunday wasn't quite the last day of the school holidays. Monday was a "Baker Day", meaning that the holidays were over for the teaching staff, but the kids still had another day. None the less, I wanted to get the boys back in the habit of early nights. At ten o'clock, everybody was in bed. More to the point everybody was in their own bed - including Howard.
I lay awake for a good while. I was still not used to sleeping alone, but I knew I had better get used to it.
I must have slept eventually because I was woken suddenly by a yelp, a cacophony of yapping and an impact with the floor.
I reached up and found the switch for the bedside lamp. Sure enough I was on the floor with the duvet wrapped around me. On my bed lay a naked, curled up boy, and an angry puppy was yapping and performing his charging and running away trick.
I reached over and seized the dog then hugged him to my duvet-clad breast.
Howard was silent. It was Luke's turn now. The boy sat up and rubbed his eyes.
"What happened Dad?"
"You pushed me out of bed. That's what happened."
"Sorry," he muttered.
"I expect you'll want this," I said, handing the puppy to him.
He took the dog but, not being wrapped in a duvet, held it at arm's length. The dog's hind legs were kicking about and Luke didn't want that happening anywhere near his genitals. That explained a lot.
"Luke, did you bring Howard's blanket up here?" I demanded.
"It's still in his basket"
"Go fetch, while I put the bed back together," I said. "Better take the Hound of the Basketballs with you, or he won't let me do that."
He disappeared while I got up and replaced the duvet.
When Luke returned I took the blanket from him.
"Luke,", I said, "before you get in we'll wrap the blanket around the far end of the pillow like this. He won't want to stray far from that. Now you make sure he sleeps on the pillow. Don't let him get under the duvet. That's what went wrong before."
"What do you mean Dad?"
"Luke. He was missing his blanket, and you let him sleep under the duvet. He was only sleeping fitfully, because he was missing his blanket, and was kicking about a lot. Every time he kicked you in the privates, you curled up some more so as to move your privates away. He kept kicking and you kept moving until you pushed me out of bed. You don't want him down there. If he has a nightmare, he might take a snap at something and bite it off."
"Yes Dad, " he muttered. "I mean no Dad."
He lay the dog on the blanket then climbed in next to it.
"Luke!" I said as I climbed in behind him.
He half turned.
"Goodnight Son," I said, kissing him on the forehead.
I turned out the light.
"Goodnight Dad."
I loved to hear that.
TO BE CONTINUED